


all I can give you is memories

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drabble, F/F, Heavy Angst, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the teen wolf femslash bingo.</p>
<p>Lydia looks back over photographs of her Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all I can give you is memories

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com/tagged/teen wolf femslash bingo

The photograph was a little torn.

Lydia couldn’t remember how it had happened, but she carefully taped the ripped edges together. It was of her and Allison and, god, looking at it brought back so many memories. It felt like years ago. Allison’s hair was still long and Lydia had no idea about werewolves or other things that went bump in the night; they were both leaning into each other, arms linked, all dressed ready for a lacrosse game. They laughed into the camera, looking young and carefree, and Lydia closed her eyes.

*

_“Tell me you used to go to games back in L.A. Where’s your school spirit, Allison?” Lydia turned, hands on her hips as she looked at Allison._

_Allison raised an eyebrow, tugging a hat over her hair. “I have plenty of school spirit. I used to cheerlead at my old school.”_

_“Really?”_

_“God, no,” Allison laughed, pocketing her phone. “But I used to go to basketball games sometimes.”_

_“Come on,” Lydia held her hand out to her. “You’ll love it.”_

_Allison looked doubtful, but she grabbed her jacket in one hand, and took Lydia’s hand in her other._

*

Lydia took a deep breath, setting the photograph aside. She reached for another with trembling fingers. She hadn’t known this photo even existed, but she’d found it one day in Allison’s trash can. It had hurt, to see the photograph of the two of them thrown away, crumpled and forgotten.

*

_“Oh, no,” Allison sat down, reaching for the photograph. “Lydia, I...”_

_“You just threw it away?” Lydia asked softly. “I’m really trying not to think of that as an allegory of our friendship.”_

_“No!” Allison said quickly. “It wasn’t about...us. It felt like throwing away myself. The naive little girl. I needed to be something different, something tougher. I needed to not be the girl in that photograph.”_

_She looked up, meeting Allison’s gaze. “I like the girl in that photograph.”_

_Allison looked down, dark hair falling across her face. “Yeah, that girl didn’t torture people, so I guess she had her merits.”_

_Lydia reached out, taking Allison’s hand. “I get it, what you did. I understand, Allison. We all do. No one blames you; you were a victim too. And I’m really proud of how strong you were and still are, okay? I just...when you need to change, I just hope you don’t have to throw me aside too. Your friendship means so much to me.”_

_She looked up, dark eyes a little wet, but no tears fell over. She gave a soft little smile and nodded. “Your friendship means so much to me too.”_

_Lydia smiled and stood, plucking the photograph out of Allison’s fingers. “I’m keeping this.”_

*

She smoothed the wrinkles out with shaky fingers, smiling a little at the laughter on Allison’s face, captured forever in the photograph. Lydia had always loved that full bodied, dimpled, carefree laugh Allison did. She gently tucked it behind the first photograph. 

She pushed her feelings down, going through the others, trying not to look closely at them until she caught the one of them kissing. 

*

_“Kiss me.”_

_Lydia glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “We’re supposed to be studying, sweetheart.”_

_“I know. But we’ve kissed a lot recently and yet I haven’t documented it.”_

_She smiled, leaning closer. “Isn’t the point of kissing is that it’s spontaneous?”_

_A second later, she found herself on her back, Allison’s hair like a dark curtain around her as she smiled down at her, just a quick, fond smile before she closed the gap between their lips and kissed her._

_Lydia loved kissing Allison, loved the soft brush of her lips and the warm press of her body against hers. She loved eliciting the soft little sounds from her and running her fingers through her curls. She especially loved when Allison kissed her, taking control and deepening it._

_She heard the snap sound of Allison’s camera going off and laughed, pulling back slightly. “Really?”_

_“When I’m eighty and going over my best memories, I want this one to be among them,” Allison replied, kissing her again before rolling off her._

_Lydia smiled and reached out, linking their fingers together. “We can go over them together,” she said softly, and was rewarded by one of Allison’s big, bright, beautiful smiles._

*

It took Lydia a second to realize the high pitched sound was coming from her. She lowered her head to her knees, the tears spilling over as sobs choked in her throat. She tried not to wail, but it escaped her as she tried to shudder through the pain, tried to push it back down. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she pried her eyes open, hitching, desperate breaths slowing. Her face felt itchy from her tears, eyes swollen, and she looked at the photograph inches from her face. She gazed at Allison’s face before slowly sitting up. 

Woodenly, she placed the photographs in the box she’d prepared for this. Inside, there was already the bracelet she’d made for Allison for their anniversary, one of Allison’s shirts she’d stolen ages ago, and some of Allison’s poetry she’d written for Lydia. She tucked everything inside neatly and sealed the lid shut with trembling hands, easing to her feet. 

Allison wasn’t going to kiss her again. They wouldn’t be eighty and looking over the photographs and laughing. Allison would never see another game, never have chance to change herself. 

Allison was gone. _Dead_ – a wail rose in Lydia’s throat, but she pushed it down – and buried. And Lydia had to move on. 

She slid the box onto a shelf in her closet, closed the doors with a soft click, and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hello? :)


End file.
